


a little night music

by AllOfThisMatter



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, No Plot/Plotless, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllOfThisMatter/pseuds/AllOfThisMatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wants him to know just how much she loves him.<br/>But they must be quiet, mustn't they.</p><p>Set not too long after her ascension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little night music

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Jupiter Ascending or any of its characters.
> 
> So, um, hi there. This is literally shameless smut without a plot, and it's the first time I've ever written anything like this, so commentary is very much welcome. I hope you like it, anyway, so, um, bye bye.

One of the perks of being a sovereign from outer space was an absurd amount of expendable income. One of the drawbacks was figuring out how to spend it on her family without them asking too many questions. Sure, Jupiter had a great job now, at the university’s research labs, and she was working on her PhD, but none of that could explain the truly obscene amounts of money she had at her disposal. So she had a little fun with it. She made up an entirely new persona for Caine, inventing a believable past for someone of his countenance. Maybe she got a little dramatic, who could say, but her family ate it up. He was the sole heir of an old, wealthy family from Europe, and he had come to America seeking a change of scenery and perhaps some healing for his broken heart, when he met Jupiter and fell hopelessly in love. When she presented this plan for the first time, he sighed and was quiet for a few moments before asking what country he was supposedly from, and what the girl who had supposedly broken his heart was like. She had literally clapped her hands and squealed with glee.

She absolutely loved telling this made-up story, each time finding some extravagant tale of a date or a weekend getaway to wow her younger cousins with. Caine always sat patiently beside her, looking dark and brooding and playing his part amazingly well. Predictably, her mother was skeptical about him for a long time, but when he showed up at the house one day with a delightfully ostentatious engagement ring and asked Aleksa if he could ask her daughter’s hand in marriage, she started warming up to him a little. 

She needn’t ever know that the ring was actually a 30000 year old antique from the Ellerie System that he’d been given in extreme gratitude for resolving a particularly sensitive job involving a truly intense lovers’ spat and a bomb plot. And Aleksa needn’t ever know that Jupiter told him she wanted to get married and Caine was the one who took a lot of convincing because of the extremely low opinion he had of himself as a splice. And that he’d actually already given her the ring under a full moon and a million stars at the top of the Willis Tower and that she obviously agreed, but asked him to go talk to her mother for her mother’s benefit. But hey, from the outside it all seemed almost normal, and that was the best that Jupiter Jones could really hope for in her circumstances.

Especially when her circumstances included managing an enormous empire and planning two weddings: one that her family would attend and another that only an Aegis crew, two people related to her by very questionable means, a bee splice, and his daughter would attend. Oh, and like, half the universe. Aunt Nino was absolutely overwhelming with her color swatches and bridal books, and Kiza was trying desperately not to seem too excited about being Jupiter’s maid of honor.

This particular evening, Jupiter was trying very hard to appreciate the new house she and Caine had purchased for her family, and the party they were currently having for Vladie’s birthday, but her mind was just… elsewhere. The house was quite lovely. Well, it was more of a mansion really, all broad porches and tall columns and circular driveways and impossibly tall windows and more rooms than they could possibly need. It was just outside the city enough to be away from the air, light, and noise pollution, but close enough that it made a dazzling skyline view on the horizon, a distant blue-white-gold glow in the night. The party was not so bad itself, with everyone laughing and not arguing and having a great time, but she just could not keep her thoughts, or her eyes, off of her boyfriend. Well, fiancé, these days. 

There was something about the sight of him in a tight button-up and even tighter jeans. It was driving her absolutely mad, whatever it was, and she just couldn’t take it any more. She left her chair by the fireplace as stealthily as she could, and grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the stairs. Before he even had time to ask what was going on, she dragged him into an empty guest room, slammed the door shut and pushed him against it. Jupiter wasted no time in pressing her lips to his, hungry and wanting. Her hands were greedy, demanding, running over every inch of his torso, fingers tingling from the silk of his shirt and the heat of his skin. He was so hot, always so hot, like there were suns exploding in his veins. _Fever._ It always felt like sparks followed in the footsteps of her kisses, like her lips were a match to be struck on his solid planes.

He had absolutely no concept of his own beauty, his own goodness. He just _was_. He knew his job, the functionality of his design, the usefulness of his limbs, the “unworthiness” of his status as a splice. The sum of Caine Wise, according to his own image, was the people he loved, the mistakes he made, his endeavors to fix them, and his determination to make no more. All he thought of himself was of his “faults” and of his capability to serve and protect and love his queen. He did not believe he deserved her.

As someone who had spent much of her life thinking she did not deserve the things she wanted, or being unable to have the things she wanted, Jupiter Jones had made it her own personal crusade to show him just how worthy he was, how loved and wanted and wonderful he was. Much as he was wont to worship her, she wanted to praise every force in the universe that had aligned in order to bring this man into her life. And she wanted to do it by whispering hallelujahs over every scar on his body, by biting prayers into every sensitive seam of his sinews, by scratching psalms into his skin with her fingernails and building a temple of kisses and caresses out of the shattered remains of his self worth.

Abruptly she stepped back and looked at him. At most every moment of his life, Caine Wise was a creature of startling control and calm. But with Jupiter Jones, all of that composure, that restraint, was merely a mask of the truth: that he wanted to _be_ controlled, and by her hand and word alone. To an untrained eye, he looked perfectly still in that moment. But her eyes were disciplined, learned in the art of unraveling this man. He was practically vibrating with tension and need, muscles struggling against the desperation in his bones that was starving for her touch, her taste. His hands were pressed tightly against the door. She could hear it creaking under the strain of all the strength and skill he possessed, and she took a moment to wonder vaguely that if she found the right combination of kisses and touches and glances, perhaps he would break his hands right through the door in determined obeisance to his queen.

Those doleful eyes, those dangerous eyes. They glimmered a gorgeous green-gold in the pale moonlight that draped itself sinfully over his frame. He looked at no one like he looked at her, like in her eyes he could read every glory of the universe’s turning and it left him all at once wiser and weaker and stronger and wanting more, more, more.

She stepped close to him again, still just observing the effect of herself on him. His breath was even, deep and slow, only by a massive feat of control, but the second her hands left her sides to float just centimeters from his jawline, he stopped breathing completely. All of that strength, that power, utterly supplicant before her. His eyes were pleading, anxious, starving. 

“Caine, my love, my sweet. My good, good boy,” she murmured as her hands found a home at last, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones and fingertips pressing promises into his jaw. “Do you want to touch me?”

He swallowed, hard, and Jupiter watched the sliding, cascading working of his throat with an extremely dedicated fascination. Her hands tilted his head back, leaving his neck deliciously exposed, and she softly, so softly, placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple, grazing it lightly with her teeth. She could practically taste the tortured whine that tore unbidden from his lips.

“You have to tell me… what you want, my darling,” she breathed against the hollow of his throat, punctuating her words with little nips and kisses, her hands winding their way into his hair and tugging gently. “So I’ll ask you again: do you want to touch me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She purred at the sound of those wonderful words, those intoxicating words that always pooled deep in her stomach and sent the most delicious shivers up and down her torso, hollowing her out and filling her back up with a warm glow. “Yes what?” She’d moved to nibbling at his collarbone. It had been driving her crazy all evening, just barely showing now and then due to the buttons he’d left undone. The deep green silk of his shirt made such a lovely contrast to his beautiful pale skin and the dusting of soft brown freckles that fanned like constellations across his broad shoulders and up his neck. Her fingers toyed with the next button, trying to tease an answer out of him.

“Yes, Your Majesty, I want to touch you very, very much.”

“Then touch me.”

It was like someone had breathed life into him and then told him the very next second that he was dying. He was possessed, desperate, clutching at her with that crushing strength and dragging in these utterly destroyed, shuddering gasps. Caine turned to press her against the door, hands gripping the underside of her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist. She laughed, relishing the feeling of her back scraping against the door and squeezing her legs tight on his hip bones. He practically sobbed, broken with need, and sucked a bruise into the spot where her shoulder met her neck. Just where she always liked them.

That was more than enough to whip her into a frenzy, making her into this wild, raging thing. She actually tore his shirt open, unbelievably inflamed by the sound of the silk tearing and the buttons clattering on the floor. His hands left her body only long enough to shrug the tattered remains of it from his limbs and then returned to the delectable cut-outs in the sides of her floral sundress. Jupiter’s fingers hooked into his belt and tugged him impossibly closer as she tended to the scratches she left on his chest while ripping off his clothes, kissing and licking the thin red welts in equal turn. 

“You smell so…” he rasped, “so…”

She laughed lasciviously and moved her lips up his throat, past the splicer’s mark to his ear, biting the soft lobe and whispering huskily, “You always love how I smell, don’t you? Especially when we’re this close, so close, and I’m driving you absolutely insane.”

“Jupiter!”

She pressed one finger against his lips to silence him, then traced the seam of his mouth slowly, so achingly slowly before pressing her finger so sharply onto one canine that it drew blood. A low, low growl rumbled in his throat as her own lips addressed the injured finger, drawing it languorously down her tongue.

“Now, now, my love. Mustn’t be heard.”

With that she yanked his belt through the jeans loops and tossed it onto the bed. Her thumbs dug fiercely into his hip bones while her fingers slipped into the waistband, edging it down, down, down. She grinned wickedly upon learning that Caine Wise had not, in fact, managed to wear underwear to this particular birthday party. Then again, neither had she.

Satisfied with his state of total undress, she untangled her limbs and slithered off of him.

“Bed. Now.”

Without breaking their gaze, he ducked his head and backed towards the bed until he was sitting, hands clenched on his knees and waiting, waiting. She took a moment to lock the door before stalking towards him with a predatory sway to her hips. Several feet from him, she stopped, hands languidly exploring her body with a detached, deliberate grace. The tortured, reverent look in his eyes turned to fire on her skin and her hands stopped just below her breasts, dancing across the skin revealed by the dress’s enticing cut-outs.

His knuckles were white and straining, he was shaking almost imperceptibly and his jaw was twitching, and oh god he was beautiful, so beautiful. Jupiter moved closer until her sundress brushed his bare legs, reaching up to release the clip that held her hair in a messy bun. It tumbled free around her shoulders and Caine’s eyes fluttered shut as he breathed in the hazy perfume of her shampoo that drifted from her hair like a mist off a waterfall. 

“Lie down, my sweet. And hands up on the headboard.”

In all her years and all her travels, she had never seen anything more lovely. All that raw, physical energy putting itself willingly under her reign. And the desperate desire, the trust and devotion in his eyes were more precious to her than all the world, all the universe. She loved the elegant sprawl of him atop the bedspread, the stretch and strain of every muscle. She loved the little wounds that meant he was hers, nail scratches and teeth imprints and kissed-on bruises. Much, much more so, she loved that he loved them, that he bore those marks like badges of honor, that anyone could see them and know that he belonged to _her_ , only her. And above all, she loved _him._

Jupiter plucked his discarded belt from the foot of the bed and slid it between her hands, testing it with a satisfying snap. The leather was well-tempered, supple but firm, and she ran it from the instep of his foot, to the tender crook of his knee, to his hip. She teased the lines of muscle that became his abdomen and continued over his pecs and shoulders and throat and up his incredible arms, pausing to nip at his pulse points before winding the belt around his wrists and securing it to the ornate railing. Taking a moment to admire her work, she tugged the makeshift restraint downward and asked, “Okay?”

He managed only a fragile, shaking moan and a small nod before she smiled and kissed him.

“You’re so beautiful, Caine, god, you’re so beautiful it hurts. Do you know that? Look at you, tied up and desperate for me. I have never seen anything more delicious in my entire life. I am going to put these hands on every glorious inch of you until you are a needy, sobbing mess and I am going to enjoy every minute of it. Would you like that? Would you like me to touch you, Caine?”

He arched off the bed, trying to get as close to her as he could in his bound state. “Oh god, yes, Your Majesty, yes, yes, please touch me, please, Your Majesty,” he keened, absolutely unhinged.

“Shh, shhhh, sweetheart, we’re being quiet, remember? You’ll be good, won’t you? Of course you will,” she murmured against his lips before she pulled away and climbed onto the bed astride him, knees bracketing his own as she settled in. His control was fraying and she loved it, loved finding out just how far she could push him before he lost himself. Jupiter was enjoying the view from her new position, looking down at his quivering limbs, at his arms straining against the belt, at the tears that glittered unfallen in his lashes, at the points of his teeth digging into his lower lip. Even the few feathers she could see were lightly trembling. Aside from having him bound and pliant beneath her, there was something very thrilling about being in this position fully clothed with him so vulnerable and undefended. Her lips curled into a very satisfied smirk as her hands splayed open atop his thighs. “We’re going to play a game, my love. No matter what I do to you, you’re going to be absolutely silent unless you want me to stop, okay? You remember your word?”

He nodded, eyes still tightly shut.

“Open your eyes and look at me. What’s your word?”

“Le—legion,” he stuttered hoarsely.

“Good. You’re so good, Caine. Now keep those eyes open, honey, I need to see it when you break. That’s my good boy. Let me see those pretty eyes. Oh, Caine. So beautiful. So good.”

As much as she had worked him into a fervor, she had also done the same to herself, and she moaned softly when one of his teeth punctured his lip. Her hands slid up his body and down to rest on either side of his head as she lapped at the little trickle of blood, her tongue darting out to feel the sharp edges of his canines, her lips claiming his with such heady abandon it was hard to remember her purpose. Still kissing him, her hands worked their way around to his back, lifting his torso and finding the tense joints where wing met muscle. He was trying so desperately to maintain his control that he had unconsciously pulled them far too tightly against his back, so tightly she thought he’d lose feeling in them unless she did something to release the tension. Her hands kneaded the steel cords of muscle beneath them, whispering quiet encouragements in his ear until he began to unwind a little. She gently coaxed them open until he relented and fanned them out, primary feathers brushing the floor on either side of the bed. Pleased with her work, she took a moment to admire the elegant breadth of his wingspan, the play of the moonlight on his brown-gold plumage. _Beautiful._ Fingernails dragging unhurriedly down his sculpted torso as she returned to her original spot, she made sure to leave gentle bites on his chest on her way and sooth them with gentle kisses.

She watched his eyelids and lashes shudder, and the little spasms of his jaw as he fought to obey her, to keep watch, keep silent. It had never been like this with anyone, never, never. Granted, there had only been a small few, but they never wanted her like he did. They never craved her touch, never cried for her kiss. And there would never be anyone else again. He was it. Forever.

Her hands slid from his legs to her own, dragging and bunching her full skirt to a truly indecent level before letting it fall again. There were three little ribbons that held her dress together; one at her hip, one behind her neck, and one over her chest. With the same leisurely pace, Jupiter pulled her hair over one shoulder and tugged slowly at the little strips of fabric, letting them slip off her throat and brush her collarbones before loosing the bow at her chest in the same languid fashion. His breath hitched and she could easily imagine the sound he almost made. She had memorized every note and chord and melody, every crescendo and decrescendo, each ritardando and glissando of his voice, and she could have written an entire symphony in this moment if she had allowed him any sound at all. The last ribbon let the dress fall, pooling at her knees before she tossed it aside.

Skin to skin at last, he sighed and shivered, eyes making a pilgrimage up and down and up and down her body. As long as she lived, Jupiter Jones would never forget this moment. Even when the time came that she could not remember her own name, she would remember his face, the transcendent adoration in his eyes, the gentle quavering of his limbs beneath her, the moonlight whispering soft verses over their bare bodies. He was an earthquake and she was the epicenter.

Her hips settled into rocking side to side at such a deliciously slow pace, her hands teasing and torturing her own flesh as she hovered above him and she was _killing_ him. She loved the feeling of her fingers dancing over her damp skin, the feeling of his eyes tracking their every movement; moreover, she loved the miserable want in his eyes, loved knowing that he wanted to touch her so badly to the point of being envious of her own hands being allowed to slide and skate over her curves. She wondered if he knew what he did to her, if he knew that the pressure of his eyes alone was enough to make her want to scream.

“You drive me crazy, Caine. Do you know how much you drive me crazy? I am so, so hot right now and you’re not even touching me. How do you do that? You and your bad eyes, oh, you’re so good, so good. So beautiful. Look at those strong hands, tied up all pretty and powerless. The only thing hotter than your hands stretched up like that would be them touching me until I break. Makes me want to tear that belt apart and set you loose. But not yet. Not yet, my love. It’s always better like this, isn’t it? When we hold off until it aches so nicely, so desperately we can actually taste it? That’s right. That’s my good boy. Patience, my sweet.”

She was panting now, blazing gasps raking at her burning throat, and shaking at the same frequency as him as one hand stroked the tender undersides of her breasts and the other slipped down her stomach to her aching core and in moments, mere moments she burst apart, a low keen tearing at her throat.

He was still just looking at her. That’s all he could do in this moment. That’s all he could usually do anyway, even if they were just watching a movie or having breakfast. He never tired of just looking at her, committing every turn of her head, every quirk of her smile, every pitch of her laugh to devoted memory. She hung above him, shimmering like a mirage in the desert, like she was an imagined oasis and he was a lost man, dying of thirst. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure she was real, that the life he lived now was real, and not a fevered daydream. It would have made much more sense that he was still wasting away in a prison cell and she was a fantasy he had created, than it did that she wanted him, that she loved him. But then all of his doubts would be destroyed by the slide of her hands against his body; by her calling his name over and over, so quietly and gently, like it was a precious thing; by the scent of her settling on his skin like a sweet summer rain and making him whole, by it filling his lungs and his mouth and driving him totally over the edge of comprehension. In all the universe’s languages, Caine had found no words to accurately describe how she smelled, but tonight he decided that _intoxicating_ would just have to do for this moment.

Her eyes refocused as she drifted back down to earth, and she smiled a slow, satisfied smile as she shook her head, tossing her hair behind her as she leaned down. Fingers slick with her own wetness, her hands wrapped around his shaft. She took a few moments to enjoy the expressions that flashed across his face as she teased and tugged and scraped. Somehow, he still obeyed, eyes open and mouth shut, but he was shaking so violently that she took pity on him at last. Jupiter dragged her knees forward, loving the feeling of her skin raking against the bed spread and against his skin. Now, with every inch of her screaming to just let him loose, she mustered as much control as she could and slowly, so frustratingly slowly, settled his sex into hers until there wasn’t any space left between them. She swirled her hips a few times, a movement that she knew he couldn’t possibly bear at this point and watched with utter delight as his mouth wrenched open, his eyes halfway closed. 

Still he made no sound, and she was very proud of him. 

“You’ve been such a good boy, haven’t you. Yes, you’ve been very, very good,” she moaned into his skin as she kissed a blazing trail up his torso to his face, feathering soft nips and kisses over his features, hands dancing over every dip and and contour of his perfect musculature, his fearful symmetry and flawless design. At last her hands loosed the belt and tossed it away. He did not move them still, leaving them extended above his head as she examined his wrists for any damage. “Perfect. You’re perfect. And so, so beautiful. God, I just can’t tell you enough how beautiful you are. I’m going to keep telling you until you believe it, too. And now, I want these beautiful hands all over me. I want to hear you growl and whine and say my name. Touch me, Caine.”

That was all it took. All that control, gone in an instant. He was wild with need, absolutely feral, and while still inside her, he rolled them both so that he could press her deep into the bed with each frenzied thrust, hands pressing what Jupiter knew would be such artful bruises into her back, her hips, her ass. His lips returned to her shoulders, her throat, her breasts; sucking tiny marks into her skin that he grazed with those sharp canines and she nearly screamed in exquisite anguish. She was almost weeping with want, clawing at his back as she tried impossibly to press him closer, closer. Even in this lovely haze of lust and love, she delighted in the knowledge that if she said so, he would stop without question, and that alone was enough to have her arching twice as forcefully against him and moaning his name over and over and over until it seemed like the only word she could remember.

After what felt like both an eternity and an instant, he sobbed her name and they fell together and apart, and everything felt like champagne kisses at midnight on New Years, like fireworks in the summer heat, like coming home after weeks away.

Even as wrecked as he was, he was so careful not to crush her as he fell to the bed beside her. She sighed and smiled and shivered in satisfied delight, taking a moment to stretch her arms and curl her toes before curving her body against his, wrapping one leg across his hips and placing a hand on his chest. He pulled his arms tight around her, like any distance at all now would be completely unbearable. She pressed a few exhausted kisses onto his collarbone and into the hollow of his throat before glancing up at him. Eyes shut and mouth curved into a beatific smile, tears streaming unchecked down his lovely face, his breath settling into the deep, slow, even rhythm that meant he felt safe. _Beautiful. So, so beautiful. And all hers._

Happiness had never felt more real, more tangible, and she was so content, so loved and alive in this sleepy, quiet moment. She murmured “I love you” into his neck so many times she lost count and she felt his arms tighten around her as she started drifting off to sleep. Her eyelids fell closed and she was nearly unconscious when she heard him whispering.

“I know, now. I do. I still have no idea why you would, but I am so glad that you do. You love me. You love me. My queen, my love. My Jupiter. You want me. You _love me._ Oh, wow.”

 _Finally_ , she thought just before she fell asleep, _I got it through his thick skull._


End file.
